Steps
by NorthernStar991
Summary: Good beach vibes? Ten2 takes some time to work things out post Journey's End with the help of Rose. Some shippy fluff that I wrote immediately post JE and never published.


They're all on holiday somewhere. He doesn't know exactly where, but it's warm and there's a pleasant breeze sweeping in with the evening as they sit outside a café and relax. Rose is sitting on his right, exactly where she should be, with her hand over his on the table and, across from them, Jackie and Pete are trying to persuade Tony that ice cream is made to go in your mouth, and not your hair. It's very nice just to sit back and let Rose's fingers caress and entwine with his, and the Doctor is happy. He gives his feelings a tentative prod and is immediately reassured: definitely happy.

He doesn't know where they are on purpose. He won't let them tell him. This way he can pretend that they're not on Earth and that actually he's taken them somewhere in the TARDIS and this is a lovely café on some planet a million million light years away from Earth. Also, completely incidentally, it may have given him and Rose a great opportunity to act like five year olds in the airport (the airport!), him screwing his eyes tight shut so he won't accidentally see their destination written anywhere and Rose leaping to cover his ears whenever the announcement system came on. They're all speaking Spanish here, but he imagines that that's just the TARDIS translating some alien gobbledegook into something he understands. Because he's very good at Spanish. And Italian. Multo bene! Good, eh?

"Let's go somewhere," Rose says, turning and smiling at him. "Just you and me, like old times."

"OK," he says, casually, but his mouth and his hand betray him with their massive grin and tight gripping of her fingers. Traitors. "Beach?"

"Beach," she agrees and so off they go to the beach, fingers threaded together and arms swinging between them. Just like old times, him and Rose and nobody else, no Jackie chattering, no Pete enthusing, no Tony jabbering. If anyone's going to be doing any of those things, it should be him anyway. He usually has the market cornered on chattering and enthusing and jabbering and it's very irritating to open his mouth to do these things only to find that someone's already beaten him to it.

Yes, just like old times, except not. Because this time there'll be kissing. At least, he hopes there will be kissing. Just him and Rose and kissing, on a beach. They've been to beaches before, but there's never been kissing. Well, actually, there has, just the one time, but not without spectators. He wonders what that'll be like. Pretty good, he suspects. Very good, in fact. Amazing. Brilliant. Splendid. Stupendous. Oooh, stupendous, good word. Fantastic- no, not fantastic. If he says 'fantastic', it just makes her sad and when she looks at him, she's not _looking _at him and that in turn makes _him _nervous and upset and say stupid things. Well, more stupid than usual.

They get to the beach, and there's no one there, which is a start when you want just you and Rose and kissing. But it makes him wonder, why is there no one there? Is it not a good beach? Never let it be said that he's taking Rose to a less than top-notch beach.

"Do you like this beach?" he asks her suddenly.

"What?"

"I mean, is it nice and, uh, beachy? Are you getting good beach vibes? Yes? No? Maybe a little?"

She's looking at him now, like he's just said something really, really strange. "Am I getting good… beach vibes?"

"Yes, that's what I said," he says, slowly, trying to make it sound like she's the one being stupid, but it doesn't really take.

"I wasn't aware that there was such a thing as beach vibes."

"What? Of course there's such a thing as beach vibes! Are you telling me that you've never got vibes about a beach?" He's babbling now, going into overdrive. "How else are you meant to know if you like a beach or not? I mean, you could go to a thoroughly horrendous beach if you got the vibes wrong or ignored them, and-" He stops, takes in her expression. "I love you," he finishes, lamely.

Her grin is practically splitting her face, and she just says: "Oh, I missed you," and throws her arms around him and oh look, there's the kissing.

They're standing, clinging to each other, and kissing, and it's all of the things he thought it would be, even fantastic. Because while it's great and wonderful, it's also bittersweet, just like the word 'fantastic', because they both know that there's another him out there who's not standing on a beach (which may or may not have good vibes) and kissing Rose. And right now he feels so sorry for that other him, because kissing Rose is probably his favourite thing to do in the entire universe, in _all_ universes, which means that it would be other him's favourite thing to do too. But other him can never do it, because he's too selfless, irritatingly so.

You see, the problem is, up until now it's been _him _who's been the hero and self-sacrificing, doing things for other people. Always walking headfirst into danger or offering Mickey a place on the TARDIS or sacrificing his life to save others. And now that he's watched himself do it, watched himself give up Rose, he's only just realised how _annoying _it is. No wonder Donna hit him about the Sontarons. He wants to hit himself, his other self. _Don't be so bloody noble, you stupid git, _he wants to say. _Come back and let's sort it out properly._ The knowledge that they're the same person and that if he'd been in other him's position, he would have done exactly the same thing does not help a single bit.

"You're thinking too much," Rose mumbles against his lips, and he gets a thrill deep down in his stomach from the way her voice is so breathless and her eyes so hazy, all because of him. "I can practically hear you."

He laughs, and she giggles too at the vibrations against her body. "Can you?"

"Mmmm. Tick tick whirr, tick tick whirr." Her lips move against his skin, and he shivers. "Do you ever stop?"

"Only in very specific circumstances," he tells her, significantly, and she blushes and presses closer to him, if that's even possible.

"Circumstances involving me?"

"Very possibly."

She leans forward to kiss him again, but he moves back slightly and she falls short of his mouth. "What?"

"Let's lie down," he suggests brightly.

The look she gives him is suspicious. As in, she's suspecting him, not the other way round, which is rather rude really. "Why?"

"Well, if you're going to kiss on a beach, you may as well kiss _on _the beach. Because otherwise you could be kissing anywhere, if you're just standing up. It could be anything beneath your feet."

"But it's all… sandy."

"That's because it's a beach, Rose."

This time the look she gives him is venomous. "I know. I mean, it'll get in my hair."

"Well. You don't need to worry about that." He takes her hands and looks deep into her eyes. "Because, you see, there's a very wonderful invention called a _shower_ and-"

"Oh, shut up," she tells him, and gives him a smack on the arm. He looks hurt and offended and he knows she knows it's just a ploy, but she kisses it better anyway and before either of them knows it, she's on her back with her hair spread out across the sand and his mouth is on hers again.

As far as he's concerned, the setting sun is brilliant and the beach is brilliant and her tongue's brilliant and it's all generally very brilliant, and when she wriggles uncomfortably beneath him and tries to get up, he tells her so.

"The sand isn't brilliant," she tells him, only this time in that voice which means that no amount of pouting or grinning or "oh, come on" is going to work on her, and he reluctantly rolls away and discovers for himself just how unbrilliant indeed the sand is. "If only we had your coat," she says and they both think about where it is and who has it and just like that the mood is gone, suddenly as distant and unobtainable as the coat itself. He sighs and stands and offers her his hand, pulling her up.

The sun's still setting, and it seems a shame to waste it and somehow it's in keeping with the feeling anyway, so they stand and watch it, hand in hand. She leans her head on his shoulder, and he's so glad. He couldn't bear it if they didn't try and sort it out together. He'd been so afraid, at first, that the ghost of other him might come and create an uncrossable gulf between them, ruining the forever that he paid such a price for. That's not to say that other him hasn't created a gulf between them - look at what just happened - but it's not uncrossable. In fact, he's pretty sure that with a few steps they can get over it. What those steps are exactly, he's not sure, but they're both clever people, they'll work it out. He looks at her, she looks at him. He reaches out for her, with both his hand and a tentative smile. She takes his hand. Returns his smile. They start to walk.

There you are, he thinks. First step.


End file.
